


Can you help me? (I'm scared I'll never get put back together)

by Florchis



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cuddling & Snuggling, Multi, Post-Framework Universe (Marvel), Sort of h/c-ish, Spooning, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-25 15:51:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15643971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Florchis/pseuds/Florchis
Summary: After being pulled out of the Framework and in dire need of some comfort, Fitz decides to go in search of his partners, Bobbi and Hunter.





	Can you help me? (I'm scared I'll never get put back together)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lazyfish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazyfish/gifts).



> From a tumblr prompt: "will you play with my hair?"  
> If you have read _[i'm gonna be the man who comes back home to you](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15120806%22)_ by [lazyfish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazyfish/pseuds/lazyfish%22) and find some similarities it's because, yeah, I loved it too much, and I tried to go a different path, but I don't think I've done it too well. 
> 
> This fills the "Spooning" square in my [ MCU Kink Bingo Card.](http://florchis.tumblr.com/post/175123302736/mcu-kink-bingo-card-2018) I'm accepting prompts for it and for [ my MCU Bingo Card](http://florchis.tumblr.com/post/174965037436/this-is-the-temporary-masterpost-i-will-be-using) too. 
> 
> If you want, you can look for some inspiration in my [Visual Prompts List](http://florchis.tumblr.com/post/174316812926/visual-promptswriting-references) (warnings for NSFW descriptions and links that take to NSFW pictures).

The moment he is out of the Framework, Jemma drapes him in a warm blanket, and he appreciates the gesture, but no amount of heat from an outside source will ever be able to wipe out the cold that is embedded in his bones.

Jemma kneels next to him and rubs his arms trying to help with some friction. Fitz lets her do, but very pointedly avoids her eyes. What she is trying is pointless, but he has already done so much harm that he can’t find it in himself to tell her something like that. He is not even sure he has a voice anymore.

He is so focused on not establishing eye contact with anyone that it is a total surprise when he feels the poke of a syringe on his arm. He falls unconscious on Jemma’s arms thinking that whatever it is what they have given him, he deserves it.

* * *

He wakes up on the med bay after a day and a half, and Jemma raises her head from her reading at hearing him groan.

“How are you feeling?” 

Her voice is soft, but he revolts at the memories that hit him immediately, and he leans over the side of the bed, gagging fruitlessly because his stomach is empty. Jemma kneels once again by his side, but he stops her with an outstretched hand, and she goes awkwardly back to her chair.

Fitz waits until his stomach has settled a little and wipes out the small drip of bile from his mouth. His mind is still a mess, his temples throbbing in a way that makes him feel like he is about to explode in a hundred pieces because he is not capable of holding inside two lifetimes worth of memories, much less one that fills him with such shame and disgust. 

“I want to see them.” His voice is rough from lack of use, and he wonders how much time he spent hooked up to that machine. He doesn't want to know though, not really, so he doesn’t ask.

Jemma nods.

“I imagined. May has already contacted them.”

They sit there in silence, and Fitz hugs himself, trying to keep the shivers under control. He has no idea how to approach Jemma and the fact that she is still standing by him even though he hurt her so much in the Framework. He is only daring to ask for his partners because they weren’t connected to the machine and they didn’t meet that worst version of him. (Was that one really the worst version of him, though?) Not that he thinks he deserves them, because he doesn’t, but he needs to look at someone he loves and don’t see reflected on their eyes the harm he has caused them and, despite everything, he is still selfish enough to ask for what he needs.

They sit there in silence, and he needs Hunter and Bobbi because, among other things, he can’t stand watching his longer-than-a-decade friendship with Simmons decay in front of his eyes because of his wrongdoings.

* * *

It is a blessing he doesn’t deserve to have Hunter’s arms around him, and Bobbi’s hands tightly clasped in his. 

After asking for them, he panicked more than once, thinking that he was putting them at risk just out of a selfish need, but when they sent May the coordinates of where to drop him, they added a small message addressed to him:  _ If we said you could reach out whenever you needed, we meant it. Stop freaking out over this.  _ He is still not fully convinced it was the smartest idea, but it definitely was exactly what he needed.

“I’m sorry.” He cries against Hunter’s chest and takes Bobbi’s hands to his mouth to press his lips against her knuckles. “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t stand being there without you.”

Hunter shushes him and Bobbi steps closer to hug his side and sandwiched between them, Fitz feels the ice in his lungs starting to melt and like he can finally breathe.

* * *

They don’t talk about what happened to him, but instead of what has been going on with Bobbi and Hunter, and of menial things. Fitz knows that it is not the healthiest approach, but he already is in a bad place inside his mind: he doesn’t want to turn real life into hell too. He knows that Bobbi was thoroughly debriefed by Jemma and May on what happened, and that means that Hunter probably knows the important parts too. That’s okay, this way they  _ know, _ but he is not forced to face them and say  _ you should hate me, and this is why.  _

That night, when they settle into bed, they let the space for him to be the middle spoon, and he drags his foot in circles on the floor, uncomfortable because sleeping arrangements used to be such A Big Deal, before. So many things were different before, and he doesn’t like it.

“I don’t want you to treat me any differently,” he stutters, and that deprives his statement of some of its seriousness, but it’s the best he can manage.

Hunter sits down on the bed and smiles at him, and Fitz walks to his side because he is naturally drawn to him. Hunter holds his hand and takes it to his chest, and Fitz breathes in rhythm with the beating of his heart. 

“Who said we are doing this for your benefit, love? We are doing it for ourselves, because we couldn’t settle the fight for who got to be nearest to you now that we finally have you with us.”

That can very easily be a lie, but it is a lie he wants to believe, so he still lays down, with Hunter’s back against his chest and Bobbi’s long arm embracing his waist. This should be enough, but he is still trembling, and he is not sure if it is from the cold or from anxiety or from what, but this  _ should  _ be enough, and he waits for the shivering to subdue.

It doesn’t.

Hunter turns around, facing him, and with the dimmer light Fitz can not see his features completely, but he can imagine them, and that is a little comfort on itself. He places a soft kiss on the tip of Fitz’s nose and then weaves their fingers tightly together. Bobbi’s breathing on his neck quickens a little just before speaking.

“What do you need?” Her voice is warm and reassuring, and Fitz lets his breathing settle at hearing it.

“Y-You.” He tries to not hate himself for his stuttering, to think that it doesn’t make him weak but vulnerable, and vulnerable means letting people in and letting himself be loved.

“You got us, love.” 

Hunter has found his way into something of a ball against his chest, and his voice vibrates against Fitz’s rib cage, while Bobbi’s fingers map the side of his body from his hip to his shoulder. It feels good to be held and to hold at the same time. To love and to be loved in return. 

“Tells us one thing you missed.” Bobbi is purposefully trying to sound more inviting than commanding, he knows, but her true nature shows still in her phrasing. He might not be ready for more of that dynamic for a long while, but at least it doesn’t awake in him panic, but the vague echo of an itch he liked to get scratched.

“Will you play with my hair?” 

He feels greedy asking when he already got so much and deserves so little, but he feels bare, deprived of everything he once was, and afraid that the thick poison  _ someone  _ awoke in him is the only thing he has left. He needs them to help him rebuilt himself, and it makes him happy when he can do something for them. He has to believe the same it’s true for them. He  _ has to. _ He asks for this in particular because it reminds him of his mother, and on top of how much he regularly missed her, now it has been for him a lifetime since he had her. 

Maybe now that he has retired, they can all go visit her together soon. He will like that. 

“Of course.”

Bobbi tangles her fingers with the short hairs at the nape of his neck and starts rubbing his scalp. It’s not exactly what his mum used to do to soothe him when he was a child, but that’s good because he wants the comfort but definitely  _ not  _ to mesh together the idea of his mum and the idea of Bobbi. Hunter plays along with her by tracing the lines of Fitz’s chest, light fingers and a gentle touch. Fitz closes his eyes, and surrenders himself to the grounding sensation of their bodies against his, clinging to the belief that he might be an awful, terrible person that doesn’t deserve them, but despite their best judgment, they still love him.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of LLF Comment Project, whose goal is to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites:
> 
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